Misunderstandings
by partsguy
Summary: A closer look at the motivations and emotions during the rooftop scene at Joan's flatwarming party.


Misunderstanding

She couldn't believe how quickly the day had flown by. Even though she had been planning this flat warming for weeks everything was still a shambles. There seemed to be now end to little details that needed to be tended to. She wanted so desperately for everything to be perfect, after all in many ways this would be the launching of a new phase in her life. So no detail was too small to be addressed to make sure everything went perfectly. No stone too small as they say. But there was one detail that was far from a simple stone, in fact boulder might be a more apt description. Hopefully she had the answer for this as well. An answer that was far from ideal and may not even solve the problem. But for now, buying some time might be the best she could do. Just like planning the rest of the party it was a matter of getting all the pieces in the right place at the right time. Before she could complete her thought there was a knock on the door, her first guest had arrived. So adopting her most winning smile she opened the door with a cherry "Hello!"

Morse has no doubt that he is at the right address for the flat warning party. The house number is unnecessary, the location is seared into his brain. Even so he can hear the music from out at the street. Of course, to his ear the only thing that registers are the drums. It seems like rubbish to him, hardly to his taste. No matter, he reminds himself that he wasn't here for the music, he was here to enjoy himself. He had been looking forward to this event for days, ever since Miss Thursday, Joan, asked him whether he would like to attend her flat warming party. It's the first time she has ever invited him to join her socially. Of course, he needed to remind himself, not to get too carried away, he was just one of many that she had invited. It wouldn't do to not keep things in perspective.

As he walked up to the house it was important to him that he appear casual. After all it's not every day a policeman walks down the street carrying a couple of bottles of wine in his hands. Ambling toward the flat you would have thought he was out for a leisurely stroll. Although those who had seen him leave the nick would not have been fooled. Few could remember the last time he hadn't been the last detective to leave for the day. There had even been a couple of questions from some of his colleagues as he left. Variations of the age old "gotta hot date"? Knowing that they wouldn't believe him, he had just smiled and keep going, while thinking to himself "indeed I do".

Entering the house, he was struck simultaneously by how noisy and how crowded it was. People, universally young, some of whom at another time or place he might question whether they were of age, apparently all engaged in drinking and carrying on conversations at an elevated level. He automatically scanned the crowd that was milling around and didn't see Miss Thursday. Nothing for it but to try to find her amongst all this bedlam, He starts to climb the stairs weaving his way through the crowd as he climbs. A half smile frozen on his face he twists and turn, sliding between bodies, sometimes bumping into someone while avoiding someone else. All the time trying to avoid jostling the partygoers and getting an alcohol bath.

Finally reaching the second floor he caught sight of the person he was looking for. Joan was standing there amidst a group of people, playing host and apparently sharing a joke with friends. He can't help but notice how radiant she looked. Brunette hair, and a fashionably short floral print minidress which accentuated how lovely her legs were. To him she's the most beautiful woman in the house. For him she may as well be the only woman in the house. They notice each other, each beaming with the smiles of real pleasure. Before he can make his way to her she steps forward and beaming says "hello, you made it! I'm so glad" In response he, with the biggest smile he can manage holds up the wine bottles and says "I didn't know whether you liked red or white, so I brought one of each". Pleased but a bit surprised that he has brought a present she says "Oh. Great!" She takes the bottles from him and sets them safely down on a side table. Turning back to him she asks him "now what can I get you?" Spotting a tub where beer is being chilled he decides to go with the obvious and tells her "beer please".

She turns to a tub with ice, where various bottles of beer are chilling. Grabbing a bottle opener, she lifts a bottle of Radfords from the tub, wipes off a little of the condensation then expertly pops the cap off, before handing the bottle to him. "There you go"

A taking a long refreshing pull from the bottle, he smiles and says, "thank you." They exchange the smiles of two people obviously glad to be together. And before they can settle into their normal awkward silence she jerks her thumb over her shoulder, beckons him to follow and tells him "here come, you've gotta see this." A bit bemused he removes his jacket before following her. While he does so, she asks a couple of the guests to excuse her so that she can get to the door that opens onto the roof. After they do so she opens the door she steps through onto the sunlit steps. It has taken Morse only a few second s to put his jacket onto a convenient table. Afterwards he hesitantly follows her up the few steps.

Reaching the top of the stairs she opens the door and steps out into the fading sunlight and quiet of the glorious late afternoon. Walking across the flat roof she enjoys the view of Oxford that she can't get enough of. He on the other hand is looking at his surrounding from a different viewpoint. Rather than the scenery he's looking at the narrow passage and the height. Not waiting for him she, with a note of pride and whimsy in her voice, calls back to him that "this is the view I fell in love with". Morse, beer in one hand and the other in his trouser pocket reluctantly follows her partway. She's obviously enjoying herself, eager to show off the view from her new flat. It's only a few steps until she reaches the parapet around the rooftop. Continuing to gaze across the city, she thinks she hears Morse in a quiet voice respond with a simple "yes". Morse however was not talking about the view of the city, rather the view of her silhouetted against the afternoon skyline. The setting sun behind her makes her form appear to be ringed in gold. An altogether fitting image in Morse's eyes. After a brief look into the distance, she, still leaning against the bricks, half turns to speak to Morse. Seeing that he's still not followed her she smilingly tells him, "you can't see from there, come closer." Morse, torn between his fear of heights and a sense of the insecurity which she always gives him can only reply, with a sad smile, "This is as close as I get."

For a few long seconds they continue to hold each other's gaze. Each trying to determine the meaning of this moment. Neither quite sure that they know the answer. She looks at him with a look which seems to say, "why must you be so difficult?" Disappointed with his lack of a response she again turns away to gaze into the distance. Trying to seize the moment Morse quietly asks Joan "You come here". She turns back to him and holding his gaze with a defiant smirk tells him, "I'm not going to jump".

So, after everything, despite everything it has come to this. Although it was only a few seconds both would later think that time had stopped, or maybe it was just their breathing. Neither one knew whether they were in love with the other, nor would admit it even if they could. What each did know was that for some reason they desperately needed each other. They had each seen the other emotions at their rawest and it had done nothing but draw them closer. So desperate was their need that only rarely would they admit it to themselves. Yet they were oblivious to the fact that their secret was blindingly obvious to anyone that chose to look.

Neither had intended to test the other like this, but here it was. Rather than submit to their need to each other, each was apparently willing to risk it all to prove a point. Hardly appropriate or necessary behavior on such a glorious afternoon.

When she turns away again Morse realizes that he really doesn't have a lot of choice other than to give in. So, with a smile of resignation he walks over to take his place beside her. Reaching her he makes a gesture with his beer bottle as if to say "OK, I'm here, now what?" The look on her face can best be described as pained. Not only pained but a little miffed that such a simple thing between them can be so difficult.

But she tells, herself to remember her goal and that now is the time. She's no stranger to pretense nor to playing fast and loose with the truth. It's all a matter of the presentation. So, getting into a comfortable position, sitting with one hip perched on the wall, she pauses. Taking a final look at the view she turns back to him begins what she hopes will be the presentation of a lifetime.

"There's somebody I want you to meet". He can't believe what he is hearing. That's the last thing he had expected. "Her name is Claudine, shes a photographer, well, a photo journalist, something like that." Realizing that this isn't going well she can't continue to look him him in the eye. So, she looks away briefly before continuing "you'll like her!" Morse is crushed, it's the ultimate dumping. "She's pretty" He can only respond with a weak "I'm sure" as his mind looks for a way to get away from this. With a tight smile he can only say, as if he were talking to a shop clerk "I'm really not in the market right now. But, thank you though." The look on both their faces show that they have played the parts they had to play, and neither is happy about it. She can't hold his gaze, while he desperately wants to understand why she did this.

They turn away from each other, both wrapped in their despair and their denial. She to look out into the distance while he turns back toward the way they had come. Swirling the beer in his half empty bottle he makes a show of looking at his watch. Then in a tone that is quiet and false he says simply, "Well, I must go". Wanting so badly to reach out and touch him, to ask him to stay, she can only manage a weak "but you just got here". He stops and turns around, the sadness visible in his expression and his body language if not his voice. "you know, work." He manages to take a few steps before stopping and turning back to her. "I just wanted to see how you were". She could almost count her heartbeats before he continued. "I hope it's a happy place for you, a fresh start". With that he turns and shifting his beer bottle from hand to hand walks away as she can only watch.

And she had her answer. She had cut him deeply, and it had indeed been malicious. She was already beating herself up for that, it had been so unnecessary. She had wanted this to be an evening when perhaps they could reestablish their relationship, where she could try and make clear to him how much she appreciated… well, him really. So many questions to be asked and things that needed to be explained. But the chance for any of that was fading now with each step that he took. She desperately wanted to call out to him, to say "stop", or perhaps "come back here Morse", anything would have been enough. Morse was too much a gentleman not to obey her. He would turn around, show her that lopsided grin and everything would be as it always had. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't speak the words that would have prevented him from walking away with that half empty bottle of beer.

In her despair she can't bear to watch as he continues towards the doorway. Its obvious from his reaction that she can add this to her list of mistakes.

She had planned it out so well, thought everything through beforehand. She had figured out just the perfect place for them to go. The roof with its view of Oxford as the sun was setting would appeal to Morse's taste. Certainly, he would find it preferable to the noise and confusion downstairs. She could have him to herself for a while. Long enough to find out what this oh so tightly wound young man was about. Long enough for explanations, and answers, for so many things that needed to be said. They would certainly be alone for a while, at least until the alcohol consumption downstairs brought other partygoers seeking a quiet corner.

Looking back on it she would find his standoffishness a bit surprising. It was if he didn't want to get too close to her. While he never had been one to make advances, he wasn't one to hang back from her company either. Had she misjudged his feelings that badly? Did he have the feelings that she thought he had once had? Or had something changed while she had been gone? Maybe he was just a nice guy being courteous to a pretty girl, his bosses' daughter no less, on a beautiful summer afternoon.

All these times that they had been thrown into each other's company he had never initiated anything. Never had taken advantage of the opportunities that all the other men she knew would have. Opportunities that she had made sure he was given. Well the time for that was past. Each of them needed to begin anew.

It had happened so quickly that she almost missed it. No sooner had she spoken of her friend than he flinched as if he had been prodded. But it was the look that passed across his face that she would remember. A look that combined surprise, then disbelief, finally sorrow. It was only a moment before he gained control again. Later she couldn't really be sure what she had seen. But it was still there when he had walked away. Visible only in his eyes, while the face was a masque.

Would there be another chance? At the moment it didn't seem promising. In her heart she realized she may have gone a step too far.

She gathered her courage enough to look back in time to see him step through the doorway and disappear out of sight. For a few minutes she continued to sit there, glancing at the door, hoping that it would reopen. Then they could smile as if it was just a laugh between them. In her heart however she knew that once through that door he wouldn't turn around.

Still she would wait for just another minute, or two, at least. She wouldn't want him to think that she didn't have faith in him…. if he came back. Finally, it was clear that there was no point in sitting there any longer. Nothing for it now but to get up, go down and rejoin the party.

On his way downstairs Morse thought about what had just happened, what he could have done differently. He had thought things were going so well when they went up the stairs. She was so happy to see him and proud of her new flat. Once out on the roof however something had happened, and he wasn't sure what. Why had she tried to set him up with a friend? He really wasn't in the market for a relationship right now. Well, not with anyone other than her at least. He thought that the signs of that were clearly visible to anyone whenever they were near.

Then he wonders whether Joan, Miss Thursday, knew that he was afraid of heights.

Retrieving his jacket, he works his way back downstairs though the latecomers with a nod or a half smile that screams "don't come close". Until he reaches the doorway and steps down onto the street and into the late afternoon sunshine. Out of habit he glances down the street noticing late comers still arriving for the party. Shrugging his jacket into place he starts to walk down the street, no real destination in mind. His only focus just to keep moving, to put her behind him. The quicker he can get away from her and his embarrassment the better.

As he begins down the street he notices a young woman, talking to a man of about his age. He can't hear the conversation but without warning the woman slaps the man's face and says something apparently in French. The man doesn't respond to the slap, merely leaves walking hurriedly past Morse. As he approaches the woman, he notices that she is apparently unharmed and not in any distress, hasn't even dropped her cigarette. Morse thinks nothing of it, he's not on duty, and walks past. If he had not been preoccupied by his experience with Miss Thursday, he would have been more observant. Perhaps wondered why, a woman who had just slapped a man's face had not changed her position or didn't seem at all flustered. But now that was hardly something that interested him. She had been holding an unlit cigarette, but he was oblivious to that as well. Before he gets more than a few steps further she asks him if he has a light? He stops, and pulling his lighter from his jacket, steps back and lights her cigarette. She thanks him as they exchange glances. A look of understanding passes between them.

As she slowly descended the stairs Joan became more determined, "dam that Morse", she was going to have a good time regardless of him. After all what had he expected? That she was going to jump into his arms? Oh, there had been a time, when she would willingly have done just that. But not now, not yet, perhaps not ever again. Too much needed to be sorted before that was even an option. But now was not the time for such seriousness. The party was just beginning to really get going and she had plenty of friends and guests to look after. She went straight to the tub, pulled out and opened the first beer she could reach, and proceeded to down what she was sure would be only the first of the evening.

Afternoon faded into evening, the party went on, and Joan smiled and did all the things that the hostess was expected to do, but it wasn't right. No matter how much she smiled, and laughed it seemed forced. Even dancing didn't help keep her mind occupied for long. If someone had been paying close attention they have noticed her glancing hopefully toward the door whenever it opened. Almost as if she was expecting someone to arrive. Or maybe she was hoping that someone would return? But of course, she would always turn away disappointed.

Try as she might she couldn't stop herself from returning to her encounter with Morse. Obviously, she had made a mistake with that, but one that couldn't have been avoided. Even so, it was so out of character for him to act that way. Even though he was wrapped way too tight he had always been unfailingly a gentleman. Never would she have imagined that he could just walk away from her tonight. She knew that he cared for her, more than he should perhaps. How much did he care? Hard to say, he generally kept his feelings well hidden. And he had probably been taken aback by her bringing up her friend. But was that what had caused him to act the way that he did? He had been with other women so that wasn't the problem surely.

The party was winding down, the guests slowly drifting away toward whatever the night held for them. Joan, standing just beyond the light from the doorway, watched them leave. Occasionally she would smile or nod as a friend went past. Mostly she pretended to be simply enjoying a last cigarette for the evening. A careful observer would have noticed that occasionally a distant look would steal across her face. A look that perhaps showed just a hint of sadness, coupled with perhaps impatience that the night was not over. As if she wanted to tend to some unfinished business.

As for herself it occurred to her that she really didn't enjoy smoking. It really was a disgusting habit. She thought back and tried to remember why she had even started it? Probably just something to do, to pass the time, through that lonely scary time after she had left home. She really ought to quit, she knew. And she would, certainly would, just as soon as she got things organized. Another drag, and she wondered what she was going to do about Morse. That vision of him walking away carrying a half empty beer bottle just wouldn't go away. How would the evening have gone if he hadn't left? She realized that for all her planning she hadn't gotten to that part. Maybe that was because she didn't want to think about it. Hadn't thought though what she wanted or even expected from him.

What was it that he had said "A new beginning"? She didn't know how, but she knew that it had been a new beginning when they had walked onto her rooftop. She wondered whether he was gone forever now, or would he forgive her, maybe let her explain her reasons to him. Or would he just smile that wan smile and wrap himself even more deeply in his work? Sometimes it seemed their relationship was balanced on a knife edge ready to go either way. Frustrating, yet it was in some ways a comfortable balancing act. Neither one appeared to want to be the one who committed to make the decisive step, a step there may be no turning back from. At the same time neither one wanted to do anything which would jeopardize whatever it was they had. Hopefully she hadn't gone so far today that she couldn't come back.

Stubbing out her cigarette she promised herself one thing. From the time she had left Oxford she had made far too many mistakes. Had come so close to ruining everything, not just for herself but people she cared for as well. She wouldn't continue to do that. At the same time, she knew that right now she couldn't give Morse what he needed. She hoped that he could understand that. At the same time the picture of him walking away carrying that half full beer was almost too much for her too bear.

Tomorrow would be a new day and Oxford was a small town.


End file.
